


Every Day

by morgan_cian



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan_cian/pseuds/morgan_cian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Nick's life and realizations post <em>Grave Danger </em>based on the lyrics by Rascal Flatt's <em>Every Day</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Day

Every Day

 

~ _You could've bowed out gracefully, but you didn't_  


 

Nick had had it. He was ready to peel the skin from his body. There was too much lag time between doses of medicine. He would barely close his eyes and it would start.

 

The feeling of tiny legs, crawling, the sting of thousands, gritting his teeth to be strong, to keep from crying out, only to fail. Over and over again.

 

He would wake up screaming, flailing, monitors shrieking, nurses scrambling, unknown voices, unfamiliar hands. His eyes would roll and when his hands were restrained he would try to bite.

 

Until that voice.

 

“Nick. It’s all right. You aren’t in the box. You are going to be okay. Nicky.”

 

His jaw would loosen and the crying would begin, whimpers, to sobs, that would end in mewls as those hands would touch him, softly. He would turn his head and catch the scent of citrus, coffee, and chemicals.

 

He would settle and peel his eyes back.

 

Greg. Always Greg, he would try to apologize, make excuses. But the soft thumb would touch his lips.

 

“Shhhhh, I’m here,” would wash over him. “I’m not going to leave you alone.”

 

With a heave of exhaustion he would close his eyes until the next time. And the next.

 

*~*

 

He threw his tray across the room. “God damn it, Greg! Leave! Get the fuck out!” Greg pinned him with those soft dark eyes that held neither pity nor false compassion. Then he knelt down to pick up the mess. Nick bit down on his bottom lip until it was bloody. “Why don’t you just go?” He couldn’t stand the dark circles or the features that were pinched and getting too thin. The younger man just set the debris aside. He made himself comfortable once more, scanning some out of date magazine.

 

“Greg?”

 

“No.”

 

Nick sat there helpless, angry, and soothed by his friend that hadn’t abandoned him. It wasn’t Greg that rode with him to the hospital but the younger man showed resilience and fortitude that the other team members hadn’t.

 

He knew that he made them uncomfortable. Hell, he was uncomfortable in his own skin so he didn’t blame them. But not Greg. Greg was the one that saw him through those horrific first hours. It was Greg that the hospital staff requested to stay at his side. It was Greg that wasn’t fazed by his myriad of mood swings. It was just simply Greg.

 

His fingers twitched, “Greg?”

 

The man looked up from his magazine. Questions were there but unsaid.

 

“I’m hungry.” God he felt like ten times the fool. But the man just stood and exited the room only to return with a small cup of a juice and the quiet reassurance that food was on its way.

 

*~*

 

~ _You knew enough to know, to leave well enough alone, but you wouldn't_  


 

Everyone was saying it was too soon. He hadn’t processed the ‘event’, he hadn’t had enough time to ‘recover’, it was much too soon to try and ‘work’, and no one wanted to ‘work’ with him.

 

“Yeah, well fuck you too, Warrick!” He snapped, pitching his gloves into the trash can and storming out. He went into to the garage and huddled against the wall.  Greg, Grissom, and Warrick were still out in the hallway.

 

Little did they know he heard every word.

 

“He’s going to jeopardize his cases, Griss. He’s needs to go home.”

 

“I’m beginning to think you are right.” Grissom’s voice returned.

 

“What he _needs_ ,” Greg’s voice dripped with venomous sarcasm, “is for everyone to let him do what he thinks is best for himself. He doesn’t need us holding his hand, crowding him, and questioning him. You aren’t giving him the respect he deserves.”

 

“Respect?” Warrick’s voice raised a notch. “You saw…”

 

Greg just hissed, “Yeah, I saw. I saw you double checking his work and doing a half ass attempt at hiding it.”

 

“No one wants to work with him,” Warrick bit out. “Not now, not like this.”

 

“Well, if he can’t work with someone…”Grissom said hesitantly.

 

“I will.” Greg retorted and slammed the door behind him.

 

Nick watched him walk over to the burned out car. His gait was misleading, loose and unhurried but the tension in the wide shoulders gave him away.

 

“I don’t need you to protect me, Greg.” He said quietly, shame flooding him.

 

Greg just shrugged, grabbing a visor. “I’m not. Let’s get this done or we’ll be assigned the next decomp.”

 

He watched the graceful movements and the quiet of the man that was normally so much more, more noise, more stories, more movement, more laughter. Greg was providing a quiet solace that had him pushing off the wall and grabbing his kit to go back to work. Side by side, working together.

 

*~*

 

~ _I drive myself crazy, tryin' to stay out of my own way_  
The messes that I make, but my secrets are so safe  
The only one who gets me, yeah, you get me  


 

He had fallen asleep next to him on the bed. They had played game after game until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He just didn’t want to go home. To an empty apartment that was in disarray. He felt so out of control. But with Greg, there was a sense of peace, not the hellish memories that would sneak up and grab him at the most inopportune moments. He would never admit it, but with Greg, he felt safe.

 

When he opened his eyes, he didn’t know where he was. The dark was illuminated with the sickly neon green. He began to gasp, it wasn’t a dream. His eyes were open. Oh god, not again.

 

But something different happened. Arms came around his shoulders and pulled him close. There hadn’t been someone with him in that hole. Just him, the gun, the light, the fan, and the ants. His body began to shake at the ghost sensation of the ants.

 

His head was turned against something warm. Soft cotton and warmth and when he inhaled it was coffee, citrus and chemicals. He went still and screwed his eyes shut. He nuzzled his cheek against the other man’s chest taking comfort that he wasn’t alone.

 

“Nicky,” Greg whispered hoarsely. “I’m gonna turn on the light, okay. I’m not letting you go.” He kept his eyes closed but threw an arm around the man’s slender, denim clad hips to assure himself that he wouldn’t disappear.

 

The warm golden glow pierced his eyelids and he opened them slowly. He was still dressed but his shoes had been taken off. He wasn’t under the covers of Greg’s bed but a light blanket had been stretched out of him. Greg was dressed as well, stretched on top of his blankets.

 

Nick watched as he unplugged the alarm clock and deposited it into the night stand. He then reached for his phone and pressed some buttons.

 

“I’m gonna turn the light off, okay?” Greg’s face was flushed from sleep, his eyes soft and bleary.

 

“I should be going home,” Nick replied, feeling the heat of a blush staining his face. He had just made an ass of himself. His secret of the gut wrenching nightmares were out in the open. He felt exposed, he felt unguarded. He didn’t want to talk about it.

 

Greg just shook his head, “We’ve gotta go to work soon and you need to sleep. I’ll make us some coffee and scrounge up some food in a little while.”

 

As the younger man stretched out towards the night stand, Nick’s eyes drifted over the lean abdomen that was bared as the t-shirt rucked up. He needed to say something, needed to explain. “Greg, about…”

 

Greg went still and then with his other hand he entwined their fingers and squeezed. The light went off, leaving them in unrelieved dark. He returned the squeeze, settled at the fact that he wasn’t alone.

 

“Goodnight, G.”

 

“Night, Nicky,” Greg mumbled through a yawn.

 

*~*

 

~ _I come around all broken down and crowded out, and you're comfort_  
Sometimes the place I go, is so deep and dark and desperate  
I don't know, I don't know  


 

“I know this great place,” Greg said as they sat across from one another eating lunch. He shoved his fries that came with his meal across to Greg. Greg did the same with the salad that came with his.

 

Nick just stared at the man not really hearing the words. Their lives had become entwined somehow. If he was at his place, then Greg was there. If he didn’t want to be crowded in his home surrounded by his things, he went to Greg’s.

 

They shared lunch, time off, their lives. He blinked. He still had nightmares. But when they were together they shared a bed as well. When Greg didn’t think he would notice, he could see a softness growing in those dark depths.

 

He recognized that look because he felt the same, the softness in his chest when he heard Greg laugh or they turned to one another in the dark. Neither questioned when they began to spoon their bodies together. If Nick was settled, Greg was in his arms. When he would wake up gasping, Greg’s arms would tighten and pull him closer to his chest.

 

“You listening, Nicky?” 

 

When he refocused he could see that softness blazing, so he reached across the table and entwined their fingers. “Tell me again, G.”

 

*~*

 

~ _Sometimes I swear, I don't know if I'm comin' or goin'_  
But you always say something, without even knowin'  
That I'm hangin' on to your words, with all of my might and it's alright  
Yeah, I'm alright for one more night  


 

God, their first time, he clung to Greg like a burr afterwards. 

 

He had tried to date again. Going from woman to woman only to feel a cold sense of dread when small hands tried to lead him to the bedroom. He kept comparing their soft rounded curves and long, soft hair with soft curls and sideburns and long, lean muscles.

 

But Greg had known and waited patiently even if he didn’t know. He had never been with a man, never looked at a man. But when he yearned, he yearned for Greg.

 

With that soft look of love, Greg led and he followed. He touched every inch of soft, creamy skin. He kissed faded scars that solidified the fact that Greg really did understand the feelings of being out of control, that shit just happened.

 

He held that soft, searing heat in his palm so like his own and cupped the delicate skin beneath. He watched as Greg’s eyes squeezed shut with pleasure, his back arching, and the wet heat spilling across both of their skin.

 

Greg had panted and guided his fingers into the soft, silky tight warmth, stretching, scissoring, and then coating his own flesh, sinking deep, his heart stuttering. Greg was the same that had led him out of the nightmares those first few hours: holding him, loving him, showing him a love that he never felt. He wasn’t afraid to let go, pounding out all of the feelings that he felt into Greg’s willing body. He wasn’t ashamed of shouting out the orgasm that curled his toes and hollowed him out.

 

And for once, he was the one that was held in the aftermath of spent passion. He was the one comforted. Greg accepted the clinging and just continued to stroke his back until they both drifted off into oblivion.

 

*~*

 

~ _It's amazing to me, how every day, you save my life_  


 

Nick left the vehicles to dry in the sun. He chased Rampart around in the yard before they bounded up onto the porch and into the front door of the two story home at the end of a cul de sac.

 

He rolled his eyes as the ear splitting rock cranked through speakers mounted throughout the house. Rampart yipped and scuttled out the pet door into the fenced off backyard.

 

Nick gave a fleeting thought of doing the same but he was on a mission. He turned the corner and leaned on the door frame.

 

Greg was dancing to the music in his boxers and socks. He was drying dishes and putting them away. The movements were carefree and pure joy.

 

Watching, Nick gave thanks that he had this every day. A life that was worth meaning. A life that no matter the shadows were worth living. He had every day with his lover, partner, and mate. He had every day with Greg.

 

He switched the music off reveling in the resounding silence. He captured Greg about the waist and covered his vociferous complaints with his mouth. He pulled the unresisting man up the stairs and to the bedroom.

 

He was thankful that he had every day to show Greg just how much he loved him.


End file.
